


Love in Leather

by atetheredmind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Banter, Boatsex, Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Edging, F/M, Fluff, Let Dany Ride Jon's Face 2k19, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, Post-S7, Spanking, Tie Jon Up 2k18, Vaginal Sex, Whipping, domme!Dany
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-17 03:04:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atetheredmind/pseuds/atetheredmind
Summary: As she stroked the leather between her fingers, she recalled a night when, in her passion, she’d pinned his hands to the bed to ride him as if she were charging into battle. After she’d reached her climax, she’d never seen him so...lustful. Half-crazed, almost as if he’d been possessed, he’d rolled her onto her back to fuck her so hard, her legs had felt as wobbly as jelly the next day.Before they dock at White Harbor and leave the safety of their ship, Daenerys wants to make Jon's wildest fantasies come true.





	Love in Leather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheScarletGarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheScarletGarden/gifts).



> I wrote this for my friend TheScarletGarden for Jonerys Secret Santa. I tried to hit on all of your kinks, and then some ;) Merry Christmas! I really hope you enjoy this smutty little fic because I know I had fun writing it! (For everyone else, I direct your attention to the tags just in case this might not be to your taste, but it’s all in good fun, especially for Jon and Dany, I promise.)
> 
> Thank you to aliciutza for reading over this and assuring me it made sense! She also made this lovely moodboard, so bonus gift! Alice, you are an absolute sweetheart <3
> 
> I also want to give thanks to notpmaHleM because she wrote a lovely fic (actually, two) that we refer to as cloak!smut, and it put in my head the wonderful image of Dany wearing Jon’s cloak that I just had to pay a little homage to here. Please go read her fics, "We Are Falling In" and "Where We Begin," you won’t regret it!

* * *

“What do you like?”

As soon as the words passed her lips, Dany regretted them. Neither she nor Jon had spoken in a while, both sated from their last round of vigorous lovemaking. The scent of sex still lingered, and the tallow candles burned low, casting such a dim glow around her cabin, she couldn’t see much past the foot of the bed.

She thought he’d fallen asleep, her words mercifully gone unheard, when she felt his chest rise sharply beneath her cheek. As he stirred, Jon made a languid sound in the back of his throat, and she winced, realizing she _had_ woken him. Now she _really_ wished she hadn’t said anything.

“Hm?” he answered, a soft grumble that made her toes curl.

She considered pleading ignorance and letting him fall back to sleep, oblivious to her illicit intentions. But she was a dragon—and dragons did not retreat. When she lifted her head, she found Jon squinting at her. His eyes were soft and creased with sleep, his face so open and honest, she felt it in her heart, a small kernel of sweetness unfurling inside her chest. She smiled despite her trepidation.

“I asked, what do you like? In bed, I mean?” she asked shyly. Which was rather ridiculous, considering their mutual state of undress and the wetness of his seed still between her thighs. But while she was rather ravenous and daring between the sheets, she much preferred to let her body speak for her. Having such a frank discussion on the act itself left her feeling rather clumsy of tongue.

Jon blinked, and suddenly he was awake, staring at her with keen interest. “What do you mean?” he asked then chuckled uneasily. “I like what we’ve been doing, but I thought that was pretty obvious by now.”

That it was, as he’d been seeking her out every night since they’d first set sail from Dragonstone, over a week and a half ago. But they were getting closer to White Harbor, and she felt like they’d barely scratched the surface of their hunger for each other. She feared once they docked, there would be little, if any, opportunity to continue their dalliances.

They could die in this war. The likelihood was high, and though everything in her raged against the possibility, what scared her the most now wasn’t that she might never reclaim everything her family had lost.

It was that she might never know his touch beyond these four walls, might never know a lifetime of nights and mornings wrapped in his embrace.

Even now the fear threatened to suffocate her. Wary of making him privy to her dark thoughts, she offered him a playful smile to deflect any suspicions.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” she said, pushing up onto her elbow to look down at him. She rested her hand on his chest, letting her finger lightly graze the bottom curve of his dusk-colored nipple. Flat as it was, it still responded to her touch, tightening into a small point that made her mouth fill with saliva. The fur covers dipped slightly as his stomach tensed.

“I’m curious, though,” she mused, keeping her gaze on the work of her finger, “if there’s...anything else you’d like to try? While we have the freedom to, that is.”

When he didn’t immediately reply, however, she made herself glance at his face. He appeared...apprehensive. At her questioning look, he cleared his throat. “Well, I’m afraid I’ve reached the limit of my...knowledge in that regard,” he said with a pained, rueful laugh. “But if I’ve failed to fulfill some of _your_ wishes, please, instruct me.”

Beneath the humor in his voice, she heard the edge. The hurt. Dany seized his face in hand, combing her fingers through his bristly beard. A beard that had regularly abraded her skin, leaving pink burns to mark where he’d been: her neck, her breasts, her belly, her thighs.

“No, Jon,” she said, holding his uncertain gaze so he would know she was sincere. “You’ve been wonderful. You’ve indulged me more than I dreamed possible. In fact, you’ve let me take the reins more often than not.”

And he had. She’d ridden him more times than she could count; she was sure her thighs were sorer these days than when she'd first learned to ride Drogon.

But he’d also been more than eager to take her, hard and fast. Whether from behind, or on her dressing table, or against the wall. There was nothing he denied her.

She gentled her voice. “Which is why I wondered if there was anything _you’d_ like to do that we haven’t. Anything you’d like _me_ to do for you. I just...want to make you happy.”

She flushed, almost embarrassed by the raw vulnerability in her words. But that’s what Jon Snow did to her. Stripped her bare of all her armor, all her defenses. For once, she wanted to please a man. And not simply to protect herself, to shield herself from their barbed tongues and callous disregard—for her body and her heart—but to make _him_ happy.

Because she loved him.

And she might not get many more opportunities to let him know that.

Easing his arm out from under the covers, Jon took her hand in his, first pressing her palm to his lips, then laying it on his chest, over his heart, on top of the vicious scar she’d peppered with kisses every night since he’d first bared himself to her in her cabin.

“Dany,” he murmured. Color had risen in his cheeks, but his voice was rough with growing lust. “That _is_ what I like. You already make me happy.”

She felt an answering pulse between her legs. With a sly smile, she rose onto her knees and moved to straddle him, rearranging the covers atop them. His cock grazed her inner thigh, and as she sat down, she felt him thickening against her seat, growing hard along the curve of her arse.

“Is that so?” she said, planting her hands on either side of his head as she hovered above him. Her small breasts hung between them, still tender from his earlier attentions, but her nipples beaded in want of his mouth on them again. He licked his lips and nodded, eyes growing heavy. She arched her eyebrow in challenge. “You like when a woman leads, then?”

“Aye,” he rasped. There was a catch in his voice, as if he was afraid to admit it, yet true to his word, his cock pulsed insistently between her legs now. His hand trailed over her thigh to the crease of her hip, the rough skin of his palm scraping over her skin. Dany trembled as she leaned down for a kiss.

“Then let me show you how a _true_ Dragon Queen leads,” she teased and claimed his lips with hers.

* * *

Dany was in a mood.

It wasn’t _rational_ , she knew. But she’d spent most of the day arguing with her Hand about their plans for when they reached White Harbor and then Winterfell. On numerous occasions, Tyrion had expressed his displeasure with her acquiescence to Jon’s suggestion of riding to Winterfell instead of flying on Drogon. It was too risky, too dangerous, he’d chastised her. And riding to Winterfell side by side with her now Warden of the North sent a message that still signaled Jon as their king and not her as _their_ queen.

Truthfully, Tyrion’s objections wouldn’t have irritated her nearly as much if Jon hadn’t agreed with him.

“He’s right,” Jon had said quietly to her surprise. “If you want them to see you as their queen, you should arrive with your procession separately. My men and I should go first so we can be there to welcome you. And...it would give me some time to speak to my siblings. Alone.”

Why his words should hurt her so, she didn’t know. But she couldn’t help but feel as if he didn’t _want_ her to meet his family, not as his lover, at least. He didn’t want to be seen as her king.

And he _wasn’t_ , of course. He’d not proposed any future with her. He’d only given her now, on this ship. It was silly to feel slighted. She knew she was being unfair.

Still, after she’d stonily agreed to his and Tyrion’s suggestion, she’d been quiet for the rest of the council, only offering one-word answers or a nod when appropriate. She’d declined supper, feigning a headache so she could retreat to her cabin to lick her wounds in private. Hopefully, she could shake this dark mood that had descended upon her. Despite her irritation, she didn’t want these ill feelings to interfere with one of her last nights at sea with Jon.

 _If_ he came to her, that was. Perhaps he was feeling just as sore as she was.

Perhaps this was his way of distancing himself from her already.

Dany fought the urge to slam her cabin door as she shut it behind her. She took a moment to survey her quarters: the bed where they’d made love only that morning, the fur covers previously strewn about, now perfectly tucked at the corners, absent any signs she or Jon had ever been there; his cloak he’d left on a chair in the corner, discarded and forgotten last night in their frenzy to strip the other naked.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Dany stalked to her looking glass where she sat upon the bench to undo her annoyingly intricate braids. Once her silver-gold locks were free, the tension on her scalp eased, marginally lightening her mood. Perhaps she’d had a headache after all, lending to her earlier irritability. Picking up her brush, she untangled the kinks and crimps until her hair felt like spun silk in her hands, then she stood to splash her face at the water basin. She didn’t bother stepping behind the screen to disrobe, kicking her heavy gown and trousers aside before she slipped on her dressing gown.

Her nightly ablutions had taken only moments. Unsure what to do with her idle hands, Dany crossed to the chair that held Jon’s cloak. Gingerly, she lifted it in her hands and settled herself in the chair, laying the cloak in her lap. She ran her fingers over the soft fur, and, like a lovesick maiden, brought the cloak to her face to press against her cheek, closing her eyes. She inhaled deeply. It smelled like Jon. Like sweat and leather and _wolf._

The thought brought an unbidden smile to her face, and she lowered the cloak to her lap, running her hand over the collar and the leather braces that wrapped around his chest to hold it in place. He always looked so regal in his cloak.

Like a king.

And though he’d bent the knee, she thought he _still_ looked the part, even without the cloak, truthfully. Even as naked as his nameday, he held himself with the poise and stature of a king.

Her mind turned to the night before, to his hesitant confession in her bed. Maybe she shouldn’t have been as surprised she was. He’d always been rather receptive to her overtures and whims, whatever they were. Even when he was the one fucking her, bending her over the bed or the dressing table, it was often at her direction. She’d begun to fear he would come to resent her as too...pushy. Too aggressive. Too wanton and lascivious.

But he had said he liked that about her.

Though he’d assured her he enjoyed what they did, she noticed he still hadn’t  _quite_ answered her question. She suspected there was more, maybe even more than he realized.

As she stroked the leather between her fingers, she recalled a night when, in her passion, she’d pinned his hands to the bed to ride him as if she were charging into battle. After she’d reached her climax, she’d never seen him so...lustful. Half-crazed, almost as if he’d been possessed, he’d rolled her onto her back to fuck her so hard, her legs had felt as wobbly as jelly the next day.

Come to think of it, he’d complained of a pulled muscle in his back that next day, too, though he hadn’t let that stop him from fucking her. Rather—from letting _her_ fuck him, in this very chair, actually.

Her cunt became slick at the memory, and she chewed on her bottom lip as she grew daring, letting her mind travel down a wicked path previously untraversed. She fingered the worn yet sturdy leather braces, following them into the collar of the cloak, finding the flaps of fabric the straps were threaded through and the buttons holding them in place. Curious, she slipped one button free, then another, and another, until the braces fell free into her lap.

Sparing a glance at the door, she dropped the cloak and scooped up the braces. It was one long band of leather, actually, that looped into two circles for him to slip his arms into and secure across his chest. Carefully, she untwisted the strap to stretch it out to its full length, slipping her wrists inside as she held it out before her. The leather was supple and soft, well tanned by a clever hand; it felt deliciously luxurious on her skin. She shivered as she dragged it over the delicate undersides of her wrists.

With a small, self-satisfied smile, Dany got up to put her plan into motion.

* * *

He knocked on her door, as he always did, despite her many assurances he had free access to her cabin, day or night.

Dany readjusted the cloak across her shoulders before calling out to him. “Enter.”

The door opened, permitting Jon entry. As he shut the door behind him, he spoke over his shoulder, “Are you feeling any better? I wasn’t sure if you’d prefer to, ah, be alone tonight.”

When he turned around, he frowned, not immediately seeing her off in the corner, shrouded in darkness. The light of the candles barely reached her, and while the fire in the brazier burned hot, it offered little illumination for the room.

“Dany?” he asked, confused, searching the cabin till his gaze finally landed on her. His relief was short-lived, however, when she didn’t immediately move from her chair to greet him. “You all right?”

“Of course,” she answered.

“Do you...want me to go?” he asked skeptically.

“No.”

He finally seemed to notice what she was wearing: his cloak, which nearly swallowed her petite frame whole. He stared for a beat longer before he asked, “Are you angry with me?”

Dany finally stood to her full height, her shoulders back, chin up, her gaze pinned on him. “Do I look angry?”

Jon squinted as he studied her. “No,” he surmised after a moment. His gaze swept her up and down, his mouth twitching. When he brought his eyes to hers, she saw he was amused. And intrigued. “You look... _warm_.”

Slipping her left hand through the curtain of fabric, she leisurely stroked the fur collar. “I am. A bit too warm, actually. Let me remedy that.” She shrugged out of his cloak, letting it fall from her shoulders to the floor and revealing what she wore underneath.

Which was absolutely nothing.

His face went slack as he took in her state of undress, his already dark eyes growing darker with desire. She fought an involuntary shudder at his unapologetic appreciation; he always looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time, with awe and lust and possessiveness. Her nipples pebbled under his leer, and she fought the urge to squeeze her thighs together, her cunt growing wet with anticipation. She held her ground, waiting.

“Dany,” he growled, then he noticed what she held in her right hand at her side. He blinked. “What’s that?”

Casually, Dany tightened her grip on the leather strap and tapped it against her calf. “This? It’s for you,” she answered simply and nodded her chin toward him. “Take off your clothes.”

His beautiful lips parted in surprise. “What?”

She slapped the leather against her leg with a little more force. “I _said_ , take of your clothes, Jon.”

He eyed the strap suspiciously, stalling, but when he lifted his gaze to her face again, she tried to convey with her eyes what his had always told her, ever since the moment he’d stepped into her throne room at Dragonstone: _Trust me._

To her relief, his expression softened. Licking his lips, he complied with her command. It was a tedious process, unfastening buckles and belts, pulling off armor and leather, but with each article of clothing discarded, Dany found herself growing short of breath.

It was hard to keep her composure as he slowly revealed himself to her, but she summoned every ounce of her famed Dragon Queen dispassion just to remain unmoved.

That was, until he stepped out of his trousers and stood straight, his half-hard cock bobbing as he kicked the last article of clothing aside. To demonstrate her admiration, she allowed a quick swipe of her tongue across her bottom lip.

Now stark naked, Jon held his arms out before letting them fall, as if presenting himself for inspection. “Well?” he huffed. “Clothes are off. Now what?”

She suppressed a smile at his sulkiness. She would rectify that mood of his soon; at least, she hoped she would. She was nervous, but she prayed it wasn’t apparent to him. He might never go along with her if he thought her even the slightest bit unsure. No, she needed to be confident for his sake.

Letting her eyes roam over him, from the chiseled cut of his torso to the powerful thighs that couched his heavy sack, Dany sauntered toward him. She let her hips sway with every purposeful step, amused by how hawkishly his eyes tracked her movement and the slight bounce of her tits. The strap swished around her shin, but he seemed less and less concerned by it with every step of her approach.

Silently, Dany studied him with a critical eye, circling around him as if she were inspecting a horse. She touched a hand to his bicep, the muscle flexing under her touch. As she stalked around him, she dragged her fingers across his shoulder blades. At his back, she paused, letting her hand follow the dip of his spine down to his firm arse. Jon inhaled, gooseflesh prickling his skin as her fingertips skimmed across the tops of both cheeks. He clenched, completely for her benefit, she was sure. Since he couldn’t see her reaction, she let slip a wolfish grin.

He had the most beautiful arse she’d ever seen. Truly, it had been sculpted by the gods, the old, the new and every one in between.

Schooling her face back into its mask, she told him, “It’s a pity you should ever have to wear clothes at all, my lord.”

 _My lord._ She hadn’t called him that since they’d left Dragonstone. At least, not in private. The title wasn’t lost on Jon, either, she could tell, his distaste for her address evident in the way his back stiffened.

“And why’s that?” he asked archly, playing along.

Dany folded the leather strap in half, then she touched her free hand to his arse again. “Something this beautiful should never be covered up.”

Jon snorted. “I appreciate the flattery, _your grace,_ but I imagine there are others on this ship who’d prefer to be spared the sight.”

Dany stepped away from him, steeling herself with a deep breath. Then, quick as she would with her beloved Silver, she lifted the strap and cracked it across his right arse cheek. The sound reverberated through the cabin, setting her teeth on edge. Choking on a gasp, Jon jerked away from her and hissed through his teeth, “ _Seven hells, Dany!_ ”

Before he could spin around, she pressed against his back and cupped the stinging flesh of his arse cheek, rubbing it soothingly. The skin was hot to the touch. Her heart beat fast beneath her breast, mimicking the quick strum of his pulse she could feel through his back.

“Too much?” she whispered into his neck. “Just say the word and I’ll stop, I swear it.”

He breathed hard, still braced against the lingering bite of leather across his flesh. She petted his arse tenderly, letting her fingers slip between his cheeks, teasing. Gradually, he relaxed against her, though his breathing only grew more ragged.

“No,” he finally rasped out, and she pressed a kiss to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, the coiled muscles taut beneath his skin. She stood on tiptoe to kiss higher up his nape, wrapping her arm around him to touch his stomach. Over his shoulder, she saw the tip of his cock, glistening with precum. He was harder than he’d been a moment ago, his shaft flushed dark red. Her belly tightened with excitement, and she smiled victoriously.

He liked it.

Dany kissed up to his ear, where she took his earlobe between her teeth and sucked, giving it a tug. “ _Nyke pendagon ao hae ziry, ñuha dārys,”_ she murmured, reaching up to free his hair from the leather tie binding it.

Jon blew out an agitated breath. “You know I can’t understand you when you speak in Valyrian.”

As quick as before, she stepped back and smacked him across the other cheek with the leather. He hissed but refrained from cursing her this time, clenched from head to toe. Once again, Dany stroked his arse, a pink welt rising to match the one on his right cheek. She stifled a wince as she moved closer.

“You are very insolent, my lord,” she reprimanded with feigned disapproval.

“Can’t help it, your grace,” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s in my blood.”

She smiled at that. “My stubborn wolf,” she purred. “Perhaps you should be punished.”

“Is that not what this is?” he retorted.

Hooking her arm around him again, she took his cock in hand and squeezed. Surprised by the assault, he jerked into her fist, cock swelling impossibly harder as she stroked him, root to tip.

“Does it feel like punishment?” she asked, letting her leather strap brush against his calf.

Tipping his head back, he dragged a breath in through his nose, the sound more pleased than pained. “I don’t know,” he forced out. “I’m afraid if I say no, you’ll stop.”

With another smile to herself, she released his cock and moved to stand before him. Shoulders slumping, he groaned in disappointment. Dany clucked her tongue in admonishment and delicately dragged the leather across his erection, the weight of the strap making his cock sag slightly. Reaching behind him, she threaded the leather around his arse and took each bit in hand, beckoning him closer. Grudgingly, he allowed her to pull him to her till they were flush.

Slowly, Dany lowered herself until she was kneeling before him. His response was a low groan in his chest, his lidded gaze following her raptly. Thick with arousal, his cock jutted out before him. Dany touched her chin to the head then lowered her face, dragging the tip up and over her mouth before she pulled away. Her tongue darted out to taste the salty trail of precum left across her lips.

Doubling the straps around her wrists so he was trapped snugly between her arms, Dany parted her mouth and sucked his cock between her lips, slurping as she swallowed him down near enough to his root before she reflexively gagged, eyes watering. Keeping her lips tight, she eased off him, running her tongue along the underside as she pulled her lips back to the tip, teeth catching around the ridge.

Jon groaned, deep and gruff, hands fisting at his sides. When she swallowed him again, bobbing slowly on his cock, he gasped.

“Gods, yes, Dany,” he grunted, grabbing the back of her head to force her back down on him. In retribution, she snapped the strap in her hands against his arse, making him jump at the sound. When he looked down at her, she met him with a challenge in her glare, even as she continued to suck his cock. His face turned red, and he let out a shuddering breath, dropping his hands to his sides.

Satisfied, she sucked him harder, drenching his cock in her saliva as spittle pooled from the corners of her mouth, the obscene sounds of her lips and tongue working him growing louder. With a frustrated groan, Jon lifted his hands to his own head and pulled at his hair, gently thrusting into her mouth. His thighs were tensed, nearly trembling with the force of his restraint—or the intensity of her sucking.

“ _Fuck, Dany._ Your mouth feels so fucking good,” he growled, dropping his chin to watch her. His eyes were nearly black, lips glistening as he panted. Her own cunt was wet and throbbing just from the act of servicing him like this, driving him mad with pleasure. “You like sucking my cock, don’t you?”

Despite his reputation as a man of few words, behind closed doors, Jon Snow was a talker.

When Dany pulled off his cock, a string of spit stretched between her mouth and his head, and she licked at her lips to savor the salt of his arousal. Then, very primly, she freed one hand from the strap and wiped at her mouth to clean the spittle from her lips.

“If you can’t behave, I’m going to have to restrain you,” she scolded. He narrowed his eyes.

“Aye? And how would you do that?”

She stood and flung the strap around his neck, pulling him into her. He ducked his head toward hers, and she lifted up to graze her lips against his. “This leather is _very_ versatile,” she murmured, kissing him. She could feel the sharp edge of his teeth on her lips as his curled in a faint growl.

“Is it, now?” he grunted, grabbing her hips, his cock pinned between their bellies. Like a cat in heat, she rubbed against him and walked them backward to the bed, leading him by the strap. “Where’d you get it from? You have that lying around?”

Her lips curved in a faint smile. “No, but you did. I took it from your cloak. That you left in my cabin. I’m beginning to think perhaps you wanted me to use it.”

He frowned and abruptly pulled his head back, confused. “My cloak?” he asked, craning his neck slightly to get a closer look at the strap wrapped around her hands.

“Don’t worry, easily fixed,” she assured him, stopping when she felt the bed on the backs of her thighs. “But I’ve been thinking about what you said last night. And...I don’t think you were completely honest.”

He froze. “Oh?”

Unlooping the strap from around his neck, Dany stepped out from between him and the bed. When he turned to follow her, she pushed on his chest, causing him to fall backward on the bed. Caught off guard, he sat down heavily, and she scrambled onto the bed to straddle him.

Jon grabbed her hips to welcome her into his lap, but she needed him near the head of the bed. She huffed out a breath of frustration. “Move to the pillows,” she ordered. He merely quirked an eyebrow before he complied, shifting on his elbows till he was situated where she liked. Dany crawled with him. Once she was satisfied with his position, she grabbed his hands and lifted them over his head.

As she placed them inside the strap, he went stiff beneath her. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

She ignored him, looping the strap on itself, over then under and behind, so it created a bind around each wrist. When she pulled on the strap away from her, it tightened around his wrists so he couldn’t easily slip it—though if he really wanted to, he could.

“Dany,” he said when she hooked the strap on the unused votive nailed into the bulwark above her bed. Sitting back on his chest, she admired her work. Jon was strung up like a hog, arms stretched taut above his head. He glanced up at his hands, pulling at the strap. It held fast. His bewildered eyes went back to her. “I don’t know about this.”

She cupped his face, petting him, stroking his beard. “You said you like when I lead,” she reminded him. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course,” he answered automatically, with such sincerity it made her heart ache. She leaned in to kiss him.

“Then let me please you,” she murmured into his mouth, teasing his tongue with hers, then pulled back to smile. “Don’t worry. They call me _Breaker of Chains_ , after all. I won’t leave you captive—for long.”

Eyebrow arched, Jon wriggled his wrists to indicate his restraints. “You sure this isn’t more for you than it is for me?”

Her smile turned devilishly. “It’s for both of us.”

She reached behind his head and, grabbing a fistful of hair, roughly tugged his head back. He bared his teeth in surprise, narrowing his eyes, but he didn’t complain as she nuzzled his exposed neck, trailing wet kisses over his skin, nipping at the tendon that stood out in stark relief. His chest rose sharply with a quick breath, and she stroked his chest to calm him, sucking at his skin. He groaned quietly.

“You’re going to leave a mark,” he murmured, though his tone wasn’t precisely unhappy.

“Mmm.” She lifted her face to look at him. “Revenge tastes so sweet.” She laughed at his admonishing look and relented. “I’ll direct my attentions elsewhere, then.”

Slipping down his body, she ignored his cock for now, though it urgently demanded her consideration. She teased his nipples, first with tender scrapes of her fingernail, then with her teeth once they were agitated into small points. She sucked firmly, even though his nipples weren’t quite as conducive to the task, or quite as responsive as her own, but she watched his face, the creasing of his forehead, the slight sweat that broke out along his hairline.

Once he began to squirm and pull at his restraints, she ceased, kissing down his torso, her lips pressing to each divot of his rib cage, every ragged scar, until she reached his side. He flinched when she flicked her tongue out, finding a ticklish spot. With a grin, she continued down to his hip bone and sucked at it lightly. He responded much more strongly this time, practically bucking underneath her.

“Fuck,” he gasped, bowing his head back. Dany stroked his other hip, trailing her fingers down the line of muscle, dangerously close to his groin. She touched the downy thatch of hair, his cock twitching as she neared it, but she diverted her hand to his thigh instead, stroking him like she would her horse’s flanks.

A frustrated growl rumbled low in his throat. “Damn you.” She laughed, digging her teeth into the muscle outlining his pelvis, then she lifted her head.

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

“You know what I want you to do,” he said, glaring at the ceiling of her cabin. She only smiled serenely, reaching her hand under him to grasp his arse.

“Use your words, Jon. Or do I need to properly motivate you again?”

His eyes flitted to her, narrowed into slits. Even in his helpless irritation, his eyes were fat with want, nearly blackened by his lust-blown pupils.

“Suck on my cock,” he ground out.

“Better. A little supplication might help.”

His teeth flashed. “Suck on my cock, _please,_ Dany.”

Taking his cock in hand, finally, Dany held it up straight and swirled her tongue over the head, licking up the dribble of precum. Then, like before, she sucked the head into her mouth and took him down as far as she could, hollowing her cheeks around him as she pulled her lips back to the tip. Jon groaned in relief, hips lifting off the bed to follow her, but she pushed him back down, swallowing his cock again until she gagged, her nose burning. As her throat constricted around his head slightly, he growled and jerked at the leather.

“Gods damn you,” he groaned when she eased up on him again, fighting the urge to swipe at her watery eyes. This time she took his shaft in hand and stroked and squeezed the root of his cock, sucking and slurping at his head. His legs tensed and shifted restlessly, his stomach going concave as he gulped in air, hips thrusting up to meet her mouth. “I’m going to come,” he gasped in warning, pulling hard on the strap.

Dany took him just to the edge, fondling his balls in her hand so she could tell when he was close. She felt them tighten in her palm, and before he could spill in her mouth, she let his wet cock slip from her mouth. Jon wailed in disbelief, opening his eyes to glower at her.

“ _Seven hells,_ you’re trying to kill me,” he accused, breathing hard.

“No,” she assured him, crawling up to him. “You wouldn’t be much use to me that way.”

“I’m not much use strung up like a pig, either.” Flustered, he jerked at the strap. “I don’t know if I like this. Not being able to touch you.”

She smiled, hovering over him on hands and knees. “Oh, I think _I_ like it very much. With your hands tied, I can do whatever I want.” She considered him. “And I don’t think you need your hands to be of use, _ñuha zokla._ ”

He looked at her suspiciously. “Just what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking it’s quite rude of you to finish before I have,” she mused, tucking her knees by his armpits. Reaching up, she took hold of the votive his strap was hooked on and carefully lifted herself above him to brace her shins on his shoulders. Careful to not put too much weight on the votive, Dany lowered herself onto his face.

Jon didn’t wait for instructions before he dove in, lifting his mouth to her cunt before she was fully settled. She gasped, nearly yanking the votive out of the wall. She quickly released it and fisted one hand in his hair, planting the other on the bulwark. Dany ground her hips as he licked at her eagerly, his tongue dipping into the slick, soaked hollow between her thighs.

“ _Yes,_ ” she moaned, riding his tongue as he stiffened it, letting her fuck herself on it. His nose and chin pressed into her wet, plush cunt, and he inhaled her deeply, his mouth opened wide, tongue deep inside her. The soft, wiry bristles of his beard chafed her sensitive nether lips as his jaw flexed between her legs. She felt her cunt ripple around his tongue when his nose grazed her plump little clitoris, inflamed from their prolonged foreplay. It wasn’t going to take her long to climax, not with how determined he was, how much she had teased him. He was like a wolf who’d been denied a meal for far too long, and now she was dangling a ham bone before him: He would devour her whole.

She wanted to draw his torture out longer, but the sensation of him tongue-fucking her was just too good, too addictive. In search of her own relief, she couldn’t stop herself from rutting against his face with abandon.

“Don’t stop!” she begged, as though she were the one at _his_ mercy.

In answer, he growled against the wet flesh, swallowing the honeyed sweetness that dripped from her. When he licked at her clit, tonguing the soft little nub with relentless attention, Dany cried out in pleasure and agony as she came, her cunt beating her rapid heartbeat against his tongue. Juices trickled from her, and he lapped them all up until, finally, she squirmed away from him, pushing off his face.

Wild-eyed and feral, Jon desperately sucked down air as she climbed off of him, settling her arse on his stomach so she could bring her mouth to his. They shared a savage kiss, Dany tasting her cunt’s tang on his tongue, sucking her nectar from his lips. The smell of her cunt lingered on his beard, and she pricked his bottom lip with her teeth, giving it a vicious pull before she sat up. He grunted, laving his tongue over the tenderized flesh of his lip, eyes tracking her hungrily as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and reached between her legs for his heavy cock.

Holding it up, she rubbed him through her folds, lubricating him with her arousal and his own saliva. With a groan, he arched up into her, flexing his hips to bump his cock against her clitoris as she ground down on him.

“Dany,” he begged. His wrists had gone white from the strain of pulling on the straps. Taking mercy on him, she angled his cock back, the head notching against the slick, swollen entrance of her channel, then, with a full-throated moan, she sank down onto him.

He groaned, head falling back as she worked herself up and down his cock with small revolutions of her hips, her walls stretching to accommodate his girth. Once she was fully seated, she bounced lightly, making sure he was buried to the hilt, before she began to ride him.

Gods, she never tired of this—that slight pinch, his full cock opening her up, the end of him just lightly kissing the end of her with every downward thrust.

But having his hands trussed up, unable to touch her—that was new. It seemed to frustrate him, too, as his fingers curled and uncurled into his palms, skin chafed red where he’d been pulling and twisting his wrists inside the leather.

Dany slowed on top of him. “Jon. Look at me.” His eyes snapped open, finding hers. His face was flushed red, and his chest heaved. Canting her hips forward, she braced her hands on his ribs. “Watch me,” she told him.

Through half-lidded eyes, he did so, observing her as she rocked on top of him, slowly, tortuously, swiveling her hips purely for his enjoyment. His eyes fluttered with pleasure, and he dragged in a deep breath. When he exhaled, he murmured, “ _My queen._ ”

Her breath hitched; there was such love and admiration in his voice, at war with a look in his eyes so lewd, it made her cunt clench around him with a sharp stab of pleasure.

“Jon,” she whimpered, rising up on her knees so she could slide down on him, taking him deep inside her with slow thrusts. He groaned again, louder, his hips starting to move with her, thrusting up to seek the hot vise of her cunt, creating a steady, pounding rhythm of flesh on flesh. Her breasts jiggled with the force, and she cupped them in her hands, kneading, lifting. He growled his approval.

“ _Yes_ , touch yourself. Ride me,” he panted. Sweat beaded on his forehead and in the hollow of his throat. She pinched her nipples and threw her head back with a moan, riding him harder. She felt her swiftly building crisis upon her, shifting her hips backward so his cock dragged against her clit as she stroked herself up and down his length.

“Yes!  _Qogralbar nyke,_ ” she keened, impaling herself on his cock as he pushed into her, fast and hard.

“Let me feel that sweet cunt of yours,” he crooned hoarsely, and with a few more thrusts, she went still, back bowing as she came with a cry. Her cunt pulsed and fluttered around his cock, and when he shoved upward into her once more with a final roar, she grabbed onto his waist and gripped him between her thighs as he spilled inside her. His back arched off the bed, and his cock, thick and hard, pounded within the grip of her cunt, flooding her womb with his seed. “ _Fuck_ , Dany, _gods, yes._ Yes, take it all.”

She whimpered as she rode out the rest of her orgasm, rocking on top of him to mutually wring out the rest of their respective releases. Even after hers ebbed, he still shuddered with delicious aftershocks, and she leaned down to press kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his throat. Then, letting him slip out of her with a wet trickle of his seed down her thigh, she reached up to unleash the strap from the votive. With the slack in the leather, he was able to slip his hands free. Immediately, his arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly as they kissed.

He rolled them onto their sides, arms still banded about her. She went willingly, wriggling her own arms out from under his to embrace him. They kept their lips touching, both still catching their breath, breathing in the other’s air, filling their lungs as they filled their hearts. Dany watched him through hooded eyes, a sleepy bliss making her feel heavy and boneless in his embrace.

Jon brought a hand to her face, smoothing her wild hair back from her face, stroking it lovingly. “You’re extraordinary, you know that?” he said in a husky murmur, his fingers tracing the shell of her ear, thumb catching the bead of sweat behind her earlobe.

She smiled at him, scratching her nails up and down his spine. “Mm. So are you.”

Pressing his lips together, he studied her. Then, softly, he said, “Tell me what that was about.”

Her smile faded, and she dropped her gaze, the urge to hide, to shut him out, swelling inside her. Instead of giving into it, however, she breathed in then out, expelling with it the fear. Bravely, she met his gaze again.

“I don’t want you to ride ahead of me to Winterfell. I want to ride in together. Like we planned. Side by side.”

He blinked slowly, but when he didn’t immediately answer, she amended, “If you wish to speak to your siblings alone, I understand. I wouldn’t deny you that. But...if you truly don’t want them to see us together—”

“We’ll arrive together,” he said simply, stopping her. “If that’s what you want.”

She stared at him, her heart growing lighter. “Are you sure?”

“Aye. I never meant to upset you when I suggested otherwise, Dany.”

Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked down and away. “I wasn’t upset.”

“No? So you destroyed my cloak because...you were happy with me?”

She glanced at him sharply, her expression sheepish, but he was looking at her in amusement. She tightened her mouth against a smile. “I told you, it’s not destroyed. It’s easily mended.”

He hummed in answer, holding back a laugh. “If you say so. But the next time you wear my cloak, Dany—” She braced herself for a scolding. He held her gaze, his face turning serious, and with his next words, her breath caught in her throat. “I’ll be the one putting it on you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Nyke pendagon ao hae ziry, ñuha dārys = I think you like it, my king
> 
> ñuha zokla = my wolf
> 
> Qogralbar nyke = Fuck me
> 
> I hope the logistics of the leather strap and how Dany tied Jon up was clear enough :x I thought about drawing a diagram for clarity, but eh.


End file.
